The city of E-Rantel was fortified by three massive walls. The outermost one, stretching across the western quadrant, enclosed a vast expanse—
The Grand Cemetery, the largest burial ground in E-Rantel.
As a frontline stronghold, the Re-Estize Kingdom was locked in constant warfare with the Baharuth Empire. Every year, countless soldiers perished in battle, their bodies laid to rest in this very place.
Rumors often swirled about undead rising from the graves, yet no one had ever proven their origins. The mystery remained unsolved.
Still—
There was one widely accepted belief:
Wherever the dead fell, there existed a chance for the undead to be born.
The likelihood was even higher for those who died tragically or had no one to mourn them.
Because of this, both kingdom and empire had reached a tacit agreement—even in war, they would solemnly honor their fallen.
Thus, this massive cemetery had been constructed for that purpose.
The shroud of night blanketed the land, casting everything into a dim, eerie gloom.
Through the darkness—
A solitary shadow moved swiftly yet soundlessly, drawing closer to the cemetery's perimeter.
The air grew still, a heavy silence settling in.
Even during daylight, few dared to wander near the cemetery.
At night—
It was utterly deserted.
From a distance, Sakeer caught sight of the outer wall—a four-meter-high stone barrier, standing like a silent sentinel.
This wall did not exist to protect the cemetery—
Rather, it was built to contain whatever lurked within.
Sakeer lifted his gaze slightly.
Resting against the bridge of his left nose, a monocle gleamed faintly—his newly acquired magic tool, granting him night vision.
Even in the murky darkness, his vision remained clear and sharp.
As he closed in, faint glows became visible—
Two watchtowers, standing on either side of a large, sealed gate.
Clearly—
The cemetery's entrance had been shut for the night, and patrols were stationed at each tower.
But not just guards—
A team of adventurers was also present.
This was a joint security effort between the Adventurers' Guild and the capital's mayor, an ongoing operation to suppress the emergence of undead within the cemetery.
Sakeer narrowed his eyes.
"Looks like I'll need to find another way in."
Without hesitation, he veered away from the main entrance and toward the watchtower's flank.
Soon—
Sakeer arrived beneath a secluded section of the four-meter-high wall.
He swept his gaze over its smooth stone surface, his expression unwavering.
A barrier of this height might be effective against ordinary undead—
But to Sakeer, it was nothing more than a minor inconvenience.
With a slight bend of his knees—
Boom!
He launched himself upward, effortlessly reaching a height of nearly three meters.
At the same time—
A flash of silver glinted in his hand.
With a flick of his wrist, a Mithril dagger appeared, stabbing into the wall with precision, anchoring him in place.
With a swift motion—
He pushed off the dagger, lifting himself higher.
Just as his feet reached level with the embedded weapon, he toed it upward—
The dagger spun through the air, before landing perfectly back into his waiting hand.
In mere seconds—
Sakeer landed soundlessly atop the wall's edge.
Without hesitation—
He vaulted over, slipping into the cemetery's depths.
The first sight to greet him—
Rows upon rows of gravestones, stretching endlessly into the darkness.
Twisted, lifeless trees stood solemnly, their withered branches rattling in the wind like skeletal fingers.
Beneath each gravestone, small wooden shrine-like structures stood no taller than a meter.
The dim moonlight cast long shadows across the ground, distorting reality, deepening the sense of dread.
The entire cemetery exuded an oppressive stillness, an invisible weight pressing down.
Yet—
Sakeer remained unfazed.
Fear?
He knew it well.
In his previous world, there were no ghosts, yet people still feared the dark—a fear born of the unknown.
But in this world—
Ghosts existed.
And they weren't just specters of imagination.
They were real.
A smirk curled at the edge of Sakeer's lips.
"And what do you do with ghosts?"
His eyes gleamed as he strode forward—
"Simple. You slaughter them."
With each step forward, the silence deepened.
The number of tombstones and withered trees multiplied, their eerie silhouettes stretching into the dim night.
Sakeer moved cautiously, his sharp gaze sweeping his surroundings as he recalled the details buried in his memory.
If he remembered correctly—
Khajiit had spent five years hiding in an underground temple deep within this cemetery, gathering negative energy for his twisted goals.
At this point in time, however—
He had only been here for about a year.
Even so, a graveyard at night provided an undeniable advantage to a necromancer like Khajiit. The dense death energy saturating the land was a perfect catalyst for his dark arts.
Daytime, however, was a different story.
The patrolling guards and adventurer squads kept watch over the cemetery during the day, ready to respond instantly to any disturbances.
But once night fell—
As long as there wasn't a large-scale undead outbreak, neither the guards nor the adventurers would intervene immediately. They would wait until daylight before investigating any anomalies.
If Khajiit's greatest advantage lay in his domain—
Then Sakeer's advantage was intelligence.
He had a clear grasp of Khajiit's tactics.
Among them, there was one thing he was particularly wary of—
The Skeletal Dragon.
Though classified as a mere Level 16 creature, the Skeletal Dragon possessed a terrifying ability—
Complete immunity to sixth-tier magic and below.
For most magic users in this world, that single trait was an absolute nightmare.
Even the Archangel Flame's powerful fire and divine energy-infused attacks would be nullified by its resistance.
Moreover—
Its massive size granted it raw strength far beyond its level, making it a formidable opponent despite its relatively low rank.
A true menace among the undead.
Fortunately, according to his knowledge of the timeline, Khajiit required five full years to accumulate enough negative energy to summon even two of these monstrosities.
At this stage—
It was highly unlikely he had enough power to summon one yet.
Even so—
Sakeer wasn't one to take chances.
Precautionary measures were always necessary.
Among the ten Archangel Flames he had prepared, two were specifically designated to neutralize the Skeletal Dragon. They didn't need to defeat it—
Only stall it long enough to prevent interference.
The further he ventured, the more desolate his surroundings became.
Occasionally, faint ghostly glows flickered through the skeletal branches of the dead forest.
Then—
About a hundred meters ahead—
A three-meter-tall structure came into view.
A crumbling temple, its minaret-like spire supported by thick stone pillars, loomed over the area. Its weathered walls bore the scars of time and decay.
Judging by the extent of the damage—
This temple was ancient.
Sakeer halted, tilting his head slightly as his gaze swept the area.
Under the pale moonlight, shifting shadows danced among the dead trees.
Then, from within the darkness—
A faint, distorted silhouette emerged, approaching his direction.
At the same time—
The eerie silence of the cemetery was broken by a series of low, guttural growls.
The unmistakable stench of rot and decay filled the air.
Zombies.
A grotesque chorus of undead moans echoed through the graveyard as they stirred from their slumber, their twisted bodies lurching toward him.
"..."
Sakeer's expression remained unmoved.
With a flick of his wrist—
A second-tier magic scroll materialized in his palm.
Snap!
The parchment crumpled beneath his grip.
Swish!
A blinding holy light erupted in the darkness, coalescing into a majestic figure—
Angel Guardian.
The moment the radiant being emerged—
The undead that had been shuffling forward suddenly lunged, their movements growing more frantic.
The rotting corpses surged toward him, their footfalls pounding against the earth in a frenzied march.
Bang!
A massive, male zombie smashed through a dead tree, its decomposing frame barely holding together.
Under the enhanced clarity of Sakeer's night vision monocle, every gruesome detail was exposed—
The writhing maggots burrowing within its festering wounds.
Disgusting.
Sakeer remained unphased.
"Go. Draw them all away."
His voice was calm, devoid of emotion.
Fwoosh!
The Angel Guardian's golden wings unfurled, and in the next instant, it shot into the sky, soaring toward the distant graveyard.
As expected—
The horde of undead immediately shifted course, abandoning Sakeer and pursuing the Angel entity instead.
For the undead—
The presence of the living was like the scent of fresh, delectable meat.
But an angel's divine aura?
To them, it was a burning beacon, an irresistible flame luring moths to their doom.
Sakeer watched as the Angel Guardian led the creatures away, leaving the temple untouched.
He waited patiently.
Seven… eight minutes passed.
Then—
Silence.
The undead in the area had been completely drawn away.
Sakeer smirked slightly.
"Step two."
With a smooth motion, he flipped his hands—
Two fresh Second-Tier Angel Summoning scrolls appeared between his fingers.
(End of Chapter?